Bang
by DemonCat66
Summary: An abused misfit, Lock finds himself alone and scared more than once.


**Lock's P.O.V.**

Sobbing, I pulled myself into the crevice between the wall and the table. My battered four-year-old body stung something awful, and I could barely see past the blood flowing down my face.

"Get out of there, you little retard, and fight like a man!" my father shouted. I heard the beer bottle shatter against the top of the table, spraying me with broken glass shards. I covered my face as the dagger-like pieces scratched my hands.

"Gotcha!" he exclaimed as he grabbed me by the neck and hoisted me up. Unable to scream, I could only cry harder as his fingers tightened.

I was going to die, and I knew it.

"Guys, I'm back from the - John? What the hell are you doing?"

I felt my mother grab me and pull me to safety. Trembling in her arms, I realized my heart was, miraculously, still beating.

"Aw, just some fun, Felicity." my father slurred, swaying drunkenly, "He's just fine."

Holding me close, Mom rose up and stared at him in disgust.

"Get out."

"Wha -?"

"GET OUT, JOHN! I DON'T EVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!" she shrieked.

I had never heard her so loud.

Dad shrugged, still out of it. "Fine. But when you'll be begging me to come back, I won't listen."

He dragged himself out the door. When the old wooden thing had slammed after him, my mom looked me over.

"Oh, Lock...you poor thing...let's get you cleaned up."

"W-will Daddy e-ever hurt me a-again?" I asked, shaking.

"No, no, you don't have to be worried about him anymore, baby."

She kissed my head gently, and I prayed she was right.

###

We celebrated my fifth birthday alone. Just me and Mom. She made a lopsided cake with dripping candles, and got me a special toy - a small, red motorcycle, barely the size of my scarred hand. Smiling weakly, I gave it an experimental roll and thanked my mother graciously.

"Anything for my special boy. We start school soon, and I wanted you to have a little something."

I didn't go to preschool, so kindergarten was a new experience for me. So many kids, so many new opportunities...

When Ma dropped me off on the first day, I walked - not ran - slowly to the classroom. People stared at me, and I didn't understand why. Was it the bandages on my face and hands? The bruises dotting my neck?

The teacher, Mrs. Appleton, had us all stand up and say our names and something about ourselves. When my turn came, I smiled and said;

"Hi...my name's Lock...and I like kittens."

A snicker raced through the class as the teacher folded her hands in contempt, but I didn't understand why.

A lunch, I ate alone, but at recess I was approached by a pack of boys and girls. They all whispered to each other, tittering.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"You're that kid, right? The Richards said you got beat up by your poppa." the biggest boy said.

"Yeah, and your mommy had to save ya." one of the girls said.

"Momma's boy!"

They all sauntered off, laughing. I turned to the teacher, who was watching me with a strange look on her face. I waited to see if she would say something to the kids, as I'd seen her do to other bullies, but she just raised an eyebrow.

As if to say, _You__have__a__problem__with__me__not__being__there__for__you?__Tough.__You__don't__deserve__the__compassion._

I tearfully lowered my head.

"How was my honey's first day?" Mom asked when she picked me up. I forced a smile.

###

After that, I was branded as an outcast, a miscreant, a worthless piece of nothing. While the other kids were learning nursery rhymes and playing games, I was sitting by the window, making picture books about kittens. I was the only kid in the grade who could read or write, and I was a fairly decent artist, but did that mean I was a human being?

Not in their eyes.

Things didn't change in first grade. The teacher was nice enough to try and include me, but I was always the last picked, the leftover, the 'if-you-get-him-your-team-stinks' kind of person.

There was one day, though, that I was surprised to find a kindred spirit. A young girl with tangled black hair and a purple dress came up to me one day, while I was drawing, and said;

"Whatcha doing?"

Startled, I looked up. "W-who, me?"

"Yes, you. Who else, silly?"

I bit my lip. Was this some cruel prank the students had thought up?

"Just doodling."

"Can I see?"

I shakily held of the sketchpad. The girl took it and scanned my drawing with wide eyes.

"Wow, this is amazing! How can you draw like this?"

I felt a sheepish smile tugging at my face. "Eh, thank you?"

"You gotta teach me to draw like you." the girl said, sitting beside me. We were closer to each other than I had ever been with any school child.

"What's your name, kiddo?"

"L-Lock."

"Mine's Shock. Nice to meet you."

"Y-you too."

"Now how do you draw like that?"

Quavering, I picked up the pencil and slid it into her hand.

"Well, you start with a light circle..."

###

I grew closer and closer to Shock as first grade continued. By the time April came by, I knew her inside out. We would often sit together, and she would rant about her life, and how she was the only girl in a family of boys, and how close she and her mother were. Those stories made me smile, because they sounded like me.

"What about you, Lock? What's your family like?" she asked one day.

I almost dropped my sandwich. "You mean you don't know?"

She shook her head. It took me a moment to absorb this before I turned away.

"Y-you don't wanna know."

"Lock, c'mon. You know me so well, and I want to know about you."

With a sigh, I told her. When I finished, I was too afraid to look her in the eye.

"Oh...that's horrible..."

"Yeah, I'm a momma's boy."

"No, no! Lock, I meant it's awful that your own dad hurt you like that! And here I am, going off about my own family...oh, Lock..."

I felt my gaze travel up to her face. "Did you really mean that?"

Shock opened her mouth to respond, but the bell rang before she could respond. A stickler for being on time, she ran for the bus home.

_Oh, well. I can ask on Monday._

Saturday was my birthday. Since we were so poor, we had to make do with a small chocolate cupcake with one candle on it. The gift this year was a bright red costume in two pieces. Granted, I was a little disappointed, but I hugged my mother and told her I loved her regardless.

On Sunday, I wore my new costume and I went out to play. While Mom tended to the garden, I threw a ball around. At one point, it bounced into the bushes on the opposite side of the house. I left my mother's side, grumbling, and went to fish it out. Pushing my way out of the thorny leaves, I found myself in the alley next to my house. I looked around for my ball, bemused.

"'ello, boy. Looking for this?"

I whipped around to see a bearded man towering over me, holding my ball. I shyly nodded.

"Well, 'ere you go." he said, returning it. I took it awkwardly, thanking him.

"Hey, John! He's all yours!" the man shouted.

Before I could react, my father had grabbed me and was holding my skinny arms behind me. I gasped and tried to yell, but an odd-smelling piece of felt was shoved into my nose. Instantly, I passed out.

###

When I awoke, I was groggy and scared. A swarm of muted voices surrounded me.

Someone pulled the pillowcase off of my head, and I was momentarily blinded by the blast of sunlight in my eyes.

"Wow, John. Your son has no resemblance to ya."

"Ah, shut it."

Wide-eyed and scared, I jumped at the sound of his voice. Someone grabbed me by the back of my shirt and pulled me up. Too scared to writhe against the ropes tied around my wrists, I stared in terror into my father's icy eyes. He exhaled and a waft of cigarette smoke, mingled with the smell of alcohol, hit me. I coughed and my blue eyes watered.

"Well, well, well..." he said nastily, "How's my favorite misfit?"

That's when I lost my temper. Narrowing my eyes, I bit down hard on his arm. With a yelp of pain, he let me go and I fell to the grass. I pressed my hands against the log I had been leaning on and felt them give way. Sliding my thin hands out of them, I dodged the other men and raced down the hill towards the town.

As I stampeded through the crowd in the town square, I saw an intense burst of luck.

"MOM!" I screamed.

I saw my mother's eyes well up. "Lock...you're okay..."

Behind me, the mobsters had pushed through. I burst into a sprint again as there were curses and yells, then a loud cry of "No, DON'T!"

Suddenly, **a****terrifying****bang** shattered the summery shopping bustle. I froze when I registered it was a gunshot.

_Who got shot?_

I realized then that a steady numbness, cold and deathly, was spreading from my chest to every corner of my body. A small gasp slipped from my mouth as I realized who it was.

_Me_.

My hand flew to my heart and I felt warm, sticky blood pooling on them. A thin dribble slid out of my mouth and down my chin.

Slowly, I fell to my knees, the world spinning out of control around me. My gaze went up to my mother's, who was staring at me in horror. Then the world went black.

I was dead before I hit the floor.

###

When I woke up, I felt sick to my stomach. Shaking, I raised my head and opened my eyes, which felt like someone had placed a lead pipe on them.

"Mom?" I groaned.

I stiffened when I realized I wasn't home. I was lying on the ground on a strange place, cold and numb. The twisted roofs of a town towered over me. Standing up, I felt a stab of pain in my chest. Looking down to see the gaping bullet wound, I remembered what had happened. My hand went to my heart, and I couldn't feel a single beat. Hyperventilating, I leaned against the wall and tried to calm myself.

"It's okay, Lock, it's okay, Lock, it's okay…" I repeated crazily, shuddering.

As I walked through town, alone and scared, I passed by a window and saw my reflection.

I almost fainted.

My skin had paled to a snowy level, and my eyes were yellow with ruby-red pupils. My bangs had risen into horn-like structures, and a long devil's tail protruded from my back.

I stared at my mutated reflection for what seemed like eternity as the tail behind me swished calmly. At some point, I started to go into a panic attack. Fingering the hole in my chest, I desperately tried to keep collected.

"Calm down, Lock…it's just a dream…don't get scared – oh my God – just don't panic – oh my God, oh my God, oh my Go -"

"Hey there."

I whipped around, eyes wide in fear. Standing over me was a huge monster – a green sack, with gaping eyes sockets and a twisted smile.

"Y-yes?" I squeaked.

"What's your name?"

"L-Lock."

"Well, Lock, I heard you were looking for a place to stay. I've got a big place over at the Old Oogie Home. Care to come with?"

Mom had told me never to go with a stranger, but I was cold and scared, and this was the first person who had said anything to me. I wiped the dried blood from my mouth and agreed.

The creature, named Oogie, took me to his home. He had an entire top part to the house where he let me live. After about a month, I grew pretty accustomed to it, and memories about my tragic past started to fade.

Sometime later, Oogie came home with a familiar face.

"'S-Shock?" I stammered. A strange rush of color oozed into my face.

"Lock!" she exclaimed, grabbing me and hugging me. I stiffened as my face grew hotter.

"What happened to you?" I asked, lowering my voice to a murmur.

She fiddled with her witch hat. "I…I went out trick-or-treating on my own…and I didn't look both ways before crossing the street…"

I winced at the thought. "Ugh…"

A few weeks later, Shock and I were playing outside when Oogie brought a new kid. His eyes were wide with fear, and he was sucking on a lollipop like it was a lifesaver.

Shock apparently didn't notice him until he came up behind her and said "H-hi…"

With a shriek of alarm, Shock whipped around and smacked him upside the head with her broom. I gasped.

"_Shock?_"

"Gah! I didn't mean to, I swear!"

We roused the poor boy, who blinked awkwardly and raised an eyebrow at Shock. She laughed sheepishly.

"Hehe…my bad. What's your name, kiddo?"

"Barrel…"

"I'm Shock, and he's Lock."

I smiled feebly. "Hey."

_This just might be the start of something big._


End file.
